y swallowe

tended not to look, each step echoing like a drumbeat against m

rate, merciless still lingered: "You know, Cassian... It's almost s

ared back at me, subtle but impossible to ignore. It wasn't the mark itself that hurt; it was the memory attached, th

the storm inside. Broken things, I reminded myself, do not belong

ble hands did the labor the elite never wanted to touch. Mira

ay?" she as

practiced smile.

. Mira had always been too empathetic for this place, seeing too much, feeling too

, chairs straightened, and even the p

tory. Tailored suit, exacting posture, storm-grey eyes scanning, a

, it wasn't recognition in his eyes

said, voice low,

ng every ounce of calm

rested on the edge of the

t it wasn't gentle either. It was scrutiny, an invisible ruler sliding along t

continued. "If Selene made you unco

lance, and planted a seed that might bloom into something I couldn't undo. And yet, Cassian's voic

I said, my voice qu

or recognition struggling to surface. He leaned slight

how you sp

ng, a p

e man he had become. All I found was steel, a shadow of memo

d softly. "Why do you

I held your trembling hands and told you light still lives in

calm. "You remind me of someone," I said instead. A li

moment. Then, as if pushed by the memory Selene ha

d like perfume: sharp, inv

enjoying the hunt, the stolen prey unaware. She l

using my real name. "Must be stressful, trying t

nife, every glance a spotlight. I wanted to disappear, to m

ied to deny, rippled through me. He was measuring me. Seeing something

aid abruptly, the edge of comma

btle but undeniable, a curr

trembled despite my ef

atory, deliberate. "There are matters only you

utiny, exposure no hiding from him, no sh

n the intensity of his gaze, the gravity of Selene's interference, the

romise or a warning. I couldn't tell which.

ed hard,

necessity, by the undeniable pull of destiny,

hifted again. Selene's soft laug

ven realizes what s

I

e. And the man I had saved as a girl was no longer a boy, no longer innocent, a

I was left in a storm of whisper

om the inevitable collision of past and present. And in that brief, impossible si

might be the only person who could stop her or the person w

art hammering,

head, a single thought

at me and se

t never se